Star Girl
by a perfectly healthy clown
Summary: Solas sees stars.


Solas is chewing on his thumb. There are small beads of sugar on the side of it, and every time he slips out his tongue, he tastes it. It doesn't taste bad, but he probably shouldn't be sucking on sugar. He's sitting in a café, knees knocking together and the chains and buttons on his backpack jingle-jangling. He has money, he can purchase a latte or a frappuccino, but he's licking sugar off his thumb.

It's cold in here—to him, at least. His toes are curled inside his shoes, and he keeps knocking his knees together. It hurts, but he doesn't stop. His laptop is in front of him. It's a shit thing. It burns up a lot. He doesn't feel comfortable pulling it on his lap, like he does at his apartment. If he were to pull his computer into his lap, he would be able to get warm, but he can't do that right now. He's in public, and someone is bound to turn their head and inquire about the trembling man hugging his laptop in the corner of the coffee shop.

Solas continues to shiver. He stares at the screen. A minute passes—two, and then the screen turns to black. Solas wakes it up and stares. He stares and stares and types in his username. He pokes at each key with the middle finger on his left hand, the right still stuck by his mouth. He types slowly, awkwardly. _FenHarel_ , he types, and _Welcome back_ , _FenHarel_ , says the screen. Of course, of course.

* * *

Solas doesn't know how he had found the game. He knows it was a weeknight, and the prior day, and even the day before that, if he's being honest right now, was tough. He was down, like _rock-bottom down_ , and the heat wasn't working in his apartment, and his stomach hadn't been able to hold anything. His stomach hasn't been able to hold down much of anything lately. He doesn't know how that night was any different from any other night, but it was, and he's now addicted to this stupid game.

It isn't stupid. And he isn't addicted. It's a… hobby.

After being let go from his teaching job due to his diagnosis, Solas has a lot more free time. He knows it's for him to "get better", but many people have differing opinions on what "getting better" entails. So, right now, it's sitting in his room and fucking around on his laptop.

Obviously, he had researched the lore and story behind this game before he had joined—that's why he had gotten such a good username, or, at least, that's what the four messages in his inbox claim. He had developed a soft spot for the tale of the Dread Wolf, and he still doesn't know why.

He pulls on three pairs of socks.

* * *

Solas is in the café again. He's at the counter, not really standing in line—standing near the glass displays full of hot scones and other delicacies. Solas thinks about getting one, but the smell of bread makes him nauseous.

"You are sick. It isn't just your stomach, but in your veins. The sick is in your veins. It's in your blood."

Solas is eyeing a bagel now. "Hello, Cole."

Cole is behind the counter. The name tag on his breast is turned upside down. "I think you need to eat. Your stomach might say no, and the sick in your blood might protest, as well, but I think if you pour something extra sweet down your veins, then I think you will be okay." He's already grabbing a cup, scribbling Solas' name onto it. "You don't have to pay for it. I want to help." Solas doesn't know how Cole can see with the hair in his eyes, but he makes it work. Solas continues eyeing the food.

"I'll tell them to fill my IV with something extra sweet next time, okay, Cole?"

"I know you're just saying that, but I like that you did. I like that you're my friend." Cole gives Solas his drink. Solas doesn't want to take it, but he does. He holds it. It's warm. "You need to drink it to feel better," Cole reminds Solas, a hint of a smile across his pale face. He's getting a patch of acne on his chin. "You don't have to worry about anybody wondering why you're already wearing a knit hat in early autumn either, Solas. They think you look good."

Solas grows red. He pokes at a muffin, and Cole prepares it for him. Solas drinks.

* * *

It seems only natural to ask Cole to join the game first. Cole is there, and if Solas had asked anybody else before him, Cole might be influenced by his other friends, and Solas would like at least _one_ friend to join. Cole is the best choice right now.

Solas sends him a text one evening. He makes sure it isn't too late, as he knows Cole might have to go to class in the morning.

 _I have a question_.

Cole is quick to reply. Solas doesn't have to put down his phone.

 _Yes_.

Cole calls Solas, and Solas helps him through the process. "Does your character look like you?" Cole asks. "I am a human, but there are other options. I don't know if I should choose them."

"I, uh." Solas pauses, grabs a pair of socks from his dresser. "I am an elf."

Cole is humming—it sounds like humming. Solas can hear him clicking his mouse over the phone. "I like the ears you have now, but the ears you have there are good, too. I like your ears, Solas." Solas doesn't reply. He slides on the sock. There's a hole, and his big toe goes through it. "I will stay a human," Cole continues. "I want to wear a big hat, though. Are you wearing a hat?"

Solas wiggles his toe. "No."

Cole is quiet for a moment. "They think you look good without the hat, too, Solas." His voice is soft, careful. When Solas pulls on the other sock, his big toe rips a hole through that one, too. He needs new socks.

 _ **You have 1 new friend request**_.

 _ **IAmHere would like to be your friend**_.

 _ **IAmHere and you are now friends**_.

"I like being your friend, Solas."

* * *

Dorian buys Solas new socks. It's unprovoked. Solas opens the door and stares at Dorian, and Dorian stands in the doorway and stares at Solas. He passes over the package. "I thought you needed some." The plastic crinkles. It almost sounds like rain. It is raining outside. Dorian's hair is wet. "They're thicker than the other ones I bought you. Should hold you over longer." Solas doesn't remember telling Dorian he needed new socks, but he does need new ones, so he accepts the gift.

"Thank you, Dorian."

Dorian doesn't leave. It's raining outside, and he insists on staying. "I might drive off the road and land in a ditch somewhere," he says, lounging on the couch, an arm dramatically tossed over his eyes. "Now, we wouldn't want that, do we?"

"Of course not," Solas agrees dryly. "Would you like me to set out the wine while you're making yourself comfortable?"

Dorian is shoving off his shoes, pulling his legs to his chest. "You are _such_ a good host, Solas, but I've already had my two glasses for the day this morning, so I must decline."

Solas still sets out the bottle before he retreats to his bedroom.

* * *

Dorian is drinking when Solas wakes up. He's sitting at the table, in the kitchenette, feet propped next to Solas' laptop. He's pointing at the screen, and then he's pointing at Solas. "What is this?"

Solas looks around Dorian's feet. "My email." When Dorian tips his head and gives him a look, Solas rolls his eyes and adds, "It's a game. Surely you can tell." He goes toward the refrigerator. It's humming.

"I can tell it's a game, Solas. I'm curious as why it's currently pulled up on your laptop. And why you are logged in. Oh, and why you have a new message from"—Dorian leans in, the dining chair creaking as he moves—"I am here? Is it I am here? Or do I pronounce it as one word?" Dorian tries. He takes another sip of wine.

"It's not one word. You know that. It's Cole." Solas is staring into the fridge. He isn't hungry.

"Cole isn't here, Solas. I think you need to go back to bed." Dorian tops up his glass. "You could be over-exhausting yourself, my good man. How about I fix you some breakfast? Serve it to you in bed? You shouldn't be on your feet so much."

Solas is still standing in front of the refrigerator. He shuts it in favor of standing over Dorian's shoulder. "Don't you have work?" he asks, deadpan.

"I'm sure the university will understand if I take a day off to spend some time with my ill friend."

Solas closes his laptop, picks it up. He doesn't remember leaving it on the table last night. "No. Please leave. I'm positive the books will miss your overbearing presence." He locks himself in his bedroom.

* * *

Solas boots up his laptop. He's holding his toes. They're cold.

 ** _You have 1 new message_**.

 **From** : IAmHere [10:26 p.m.]  
 **Subject** : (no subject)  
I think Cassandra might join. You like her, don't you?

* * *

Solas does like Cassandra. She scares him at times, but yes, he likes Cassandra.

* * *

 _ **You have 1 new chat**_.

[06:12 p.m.] **IAmHere** : I think I like this game.

[06:13 p.m.] **FenHarel** : I think I like this game, too.

[06:18 p.m.] **IAmHere** : I don't understand the class but I am a level 3 rouge. I don't know what that means.

[06:18 p.m.] **FenHarel** : I am a level one mage.

[06:18 p.m.] **FenHarel** : Would you like for me to send you some light reading about your chosen class?

[06:23 p.m.] IAmHere is AFK.

[06:30 p.m.] IAmHere is no longer AFK.

[06:30 p.m.] **IAmHere** : You have magic in your veins, Solas.

* * *

Solas sends reading material to both Cole and Cassandra. It might be the professor in him, but he hopes they do their homework.

* * *

Cole does. He sends Solas a text an hour later. _I will be a good rogue_. _I will help people_.

Cassandra, on the other hand, responds straight away, and it makes Solas frown. _Who is this_?

 _Solas_.

Not even a minute passes, and now, Solas has to stare at that stupid _Read_ notification on his screen.

* * *

 _ **You have 1 new chat**_.

[07:03 p.m.] **IAmHere** : How many people can be in your party?

[07:05 p.m.] **FenHarel** : You can have as little as one—yourself—and as many as four, including yourself.

[07:05 p.m.] **FenHarel** : I believe.

[07:09 p.m.] **IAmHere** : Could I invite Cassandra? I think she is a warrior and that sounds useful…

[07:10 p.m.] **FenHarel** : I am not friends with Cassandra.

[07:15 p.m.] IAmHere is AFK.

* * *

Solas doesn't like the days when he has to go to chemotherapy. He doesn't like sitting in that chair, doesn't like staring blankly at the wall, doesn't like gritting his teeth, and he really doesn't like pretending he's getting better. He doesn't want to force smiles at the nurses, doesn't want to be polite, doesn't want to feel like shit anymore.

It's all so tiring. He's so tired, so exhausted. He can't even think straight.

He's talking to Dorian right now. Well, Dorian is doing most of the talking. Solas doesn't know what he's saying, but Dorian is paying more attention to the sound of his own voice than what it holds. Solas thinks he's talking about a book he's currently reading, or it could be about the students who come into the library and cause a fuss, or it could be about how he's having trouble coming up with a username for that horrid game Solas has been playing, or it—

"I think _The Magician_ is cliché, yet somehow still clever."

Dorian is talking about making an account— _Dorian_ , of all people.

"Excuse me?"

Dorian looks up at Solas, the side of his mouth quirking into a smirk. "Have I left you nonplussed?"

Solas goes around the counter, taking the seat beside Dorian. It has wheels on it. Solas tries not to move too much. He might get sick. "I am ashamed and embarrassed to admit this, but I have not been listening to a single word you have been saying."

Dorian leans back, hands coming together to steeple his fingers together. "Oh, Solas, now—"

"Shut up."

Dorian gives him a look. He turns in his chair, back to his computer. "Which is it today?" He clicks his mouse several times. The screen is frozen. "Nausea, fatigue?"

Solas absently wraps an arm around his stomach. "I neglected to take my nausea medication before my treatment, and one of my toe nails cracked in half yesterday."

Dorian tuts, almost as if the side effects are out-of-control children. He shakes his head and gives Solas another look for added measure. "You'll get through this." Dorian's voice is soft now, different. Solas appreciates it, but he doesn't want to think right now.

"I'm tired, too."

Dorian laughs. "We're in a library—one of the best places for napping rather than revising. Although, I think the students wouldn't approve of seeing their former professor asleep behind the librarian's desk."

"I would have thought it'd help them… relate to me," Solas says. He sets his backpack on the desk, moves some of the buttons and chains out of the way so he could lay down his head.

"Not when you have the possibility of falling over and never getting back up at any moment."

Solas shuts his eyes. "I'm sick, Dorian, not old."

Dorian snorts. "Right. So, I was thinking about _The Magician_ …"

* * *

 _ **You have 2 new messages and 2 new friend requests**_.

 **From** : SeekerCAPCFP [05:02 p.m.]  
 **Subject** : (no subject)  
Hey it's Cassandra… I should have just replied to your text

 **From** : TheMagician [11:57 p.m.]  
 **Subject** : guess who!  
it's me—your best friend. accept my friend request, or i shall reactivate your facebook.

 _ **SeekerCAPCFP and TheMagician would like to be your friend**_.

 _ **SeekerCAPCFP**_ , _**TheMagician**_ , _ **and you are now friends**_.

 _ **You have 1 new chat**_.

[02:11 a.m.] **TheMagician** : shouldn't you be in bed? had to relieve your bladder?

[02:13 a.m.] **FenHarel** : I actually have not been able to urinate since yesterday morning, despite how much water I have been drinking.

[02:14 a.m.] **TheMagician** : oh.

[02:16 a.m.] **FenHarel** : Maybe you shouldn't try to dance around the implication I am old next time.

[02:17 a.m.] **TheMagician** : i love dancing.

* * *

Solas now has three friends. That does sound rather sad, but he doesn't dwell on it. Three friends are enough to go on quests. Three friends are a full party—two mages, a warrior, and a rogue, at that. They're practically invincible.

"Oh, damn, I've died."

Dorian's voice is loud; it forces Solas to flinch, to shove off his headset and rub his ears. He's about to pick it back up, to scold Dorian for being loud, but it's not his fault. After giving his ears a final rub, Solas turns down the volume and gently replaces his headset. Dorian is still talking.

"Don't mind me. I'll just be taking a nap on this giant rock."

Solas moves his character over, watching as he revives Dorian. Cassandra and Cole are somewhere nearby, but they're busy tackling their own enemies. Solas can hear the swift slice of steel and Cole pounding on his mouse through the headset. Dorian is laughing as he walks off the rock he and Solas are still standing on. Solas sees Dorian's health bar, in the top left corner, deplete. He isn't dead, but he's close.

Cassandra doesn't have a headset. She's using the game chat.

[07:43 p.m.] **SeekerCAPCFP** : I keep pushing the wrong keys

[07:44 p.m.] **SeekerCAPCFP** : I don't know how you can find this game so entertaining. You just kill everything in sight don't you?

[07:47 p.m.] **SeekerCAPCFP** : DORIAN stop dying

When the new message enters the chat window, Dorian laughs aloud, and Solas even lets out a snicker. "Such a shame she can't hear us laughing right now."

"I'm sure she can infer, Dorian."

[07:49 p.m.] **TheMagician** : make me.

Solas swears he can see Cassandra's character's eyes roll.

[07:50 p.m.] **SeekerCAPCFP** : I need some new friends

[07:51 p.m.] IAmHere is AFK.

* * *

Solas is in the coffee shop again. It seems like he's here a lot, but he only frequents the café when Cole is working. Cole only works weekends and the days he doesn't have class. Despite that, however, Cole does seem to work a lot. Every time Solas walks in, Cole is already behind the counter, head bowed and with permanent marker in toll. Today, his name tag is turned right side up.

Solas is at his usual table. He doesn't have his laptop with him. When he isn't mooching the café's wifi, Solas normally reads, sometimes sketches. He might not be directly interacting with people, but it feels nice to be around the conversation, the lively atmosphere. He can get terribly lonely at times. Cole knows that. Solas hasn't said anything about it, but he can tell Cole _feels_ Solas has loneliness in his bones. Cole sits with Solas when he's on break, and Solas catches Cole staring at him behind the counter whenever the traffic is slow. Cole's a good kid.

Solas is reading today. His book is propped on his backpack. He's fiddling with a safety pin threaded through one of the pouches. The shop isn't getting much business right now, so Solas is expecting Cole to appear in the chair across from him. Solas hears the skid of the chair. The sound of a body dropping into the seat is very Not Cole. Solas doesn't know anybody who is willing enough to sit with him by their own means. Cautiously, he peeks from above his novel.

It's Sera. She's munching on a cake pop. "When are you coming back? I miss throwing stuff at ya when you're not looking."

Solas goes back to his reading. "I don't know."

Sera chews. Solas can hear it from across the table. "That's a shame, now, innit? I liked your class." Sera chortles. "Can't even say that with a straight face." She laughs again before biting into the treat. She wipes crumbs from her hands, off her shirt. When she continues talking, Solas rolls his eyes. "What even happened, yeah? They're just saying you got sick, but you're fine right now. You _look_ fine. I mean, you don't look fine at all. You've got on that hat." Sera licks sprinkles off her thumb.

Solas stares at her.

Sera blinks. "It's a good hat, don't get me wrong. You're just a little too not young to wear it."

Solas returns to his book.

"At least I didn't outright _say_ it."

Solas scratches his nose. "Thank you, Sera."

Sera drinks her coffee, leaning back and acting like she's planning to stay for a while. Solas doesn't really mind that; he only hopes she keeps quiet.

"Y'know—"

Guess not. Solas stuffs a marker into his book and presses his fingertips together.

"You never answered my question." She points an accusing finger at him.

"Which one?" Sera is momentarily confused. She settles in her seat and appears to go through their conversation. Solas takes this time to return his book into his bag.

"I meant the one where I—well, I dunno. What happened, yeah? I asked that, didn't I?"

"Your head is so full, Sera. I don't know how you aren't hurting." Cole has joined them. He sits in between Solas and Sera. "Solas' head is full, too, but his head-hurting is elsewhere. I haven't found it yet."

Sera sticks out her tongue. "Shut it. My head's fine. Not too sure about yours, though."

Solas doesn't think he has the energy to listen to them bicker. He pushes out his chair. It makes far too much noise for his liking. Cole turns his head, his eyes wide as he scans Solas. "Where are you going if you have nowhere to go?"

Solas stays where he is. He drops his backpack into his lap, however. He's quiet. Sera tilts her head and narrows her eyes. She looks as if she might shoot another scathing remark at Solas, but she instead turns to Cole, pointing at him now. "I need to borrow your history homework. The piss pot of a substitute doesn't know what they're doing." Solas wonders if that's supposed to make him feel better somehow, but he can't quite be sure. Sera has an odd way of bouncing around things—even more so than Cole. Solas scratches his forearm.

"You need to do your own work, Sera. It will help."

"It will help the both of us if you lemme see your answers to that worksheet." Sera raises her eyebrows at Cole, nodding. "Yeah? Yeah. Text it to me later."

"I'm going to be busy later." Cole picks at his fingernail. "I won't be able to help."

Solas grins. Sera groans. "What're you even gonna be doing later? You get off work in an hour." Cole picks at his nails some more, avoiding eye contact. He chews on his lip. Solas gives Cole a look. Sera does, too. She isn't happy. The chair creaks as she straightens up. "I bet you're gonna play that stupid game, aren't ya? That's all Cassandra would talk about when she was picking me up last night. 'Oh, you just have to play it, Sera!'" Sera blows a raspberry. "As if, yeah? She just said you kill a bunch o' stuff and just… just talk to people. How can that be fun?"

Cole glances at Sera, then at Solas, as if looking for an answer he can't quite feel on his tongue yet. Sera glares at the pair of them. "Don't tell me Mr. Old Hat over there plays, too!" Sera laughs, bending over at the waist, like it's the biggest scandal of the century. Cole doesn't understand the laughter. He stares at Sera as if she were in pain. When Sera raises back up, her face is red. "That's rich. You gotta be lying. He's, like, old, and Cassandra is, like—well, she's not young. And you're young." She points at Cole again, laughs. "That's messed up."

"Mr. Pavus," Cole starts, quiet, "the librarian, he plays, too."

Sera laughs again. She quells it with a sip of her coffee. "Weird." They sit there. Solas should have already left. He wonders how long Cole's break is. Sera taps her nails against the curve of her cup, pursing her lips. "Guess I'll have to join, then, yeah? Kick some arse."

* * *

 _ **You have 1 new friend request**_.

 _ **redjenny4 would like to be your friend**_.

 _ **redjenny4 and you are now friends**_.

 _ **You have 2 new chats**_.

[12:02 a.m.] **redjenny4** : heeeeeeyyy

[12:03 a.m.] **TheMagician** : what are you doing up?

[12:04 a.m.] **FenHarel** (to **TheMagician** ): I should be asking the same of you.

[12:04 a.m.] **FenHarel** (to **redjenny4** ): Hello.

[12:04 a.m.] **redjenny4** : wassup

[12:05 a.m.] **TheMagician** : despite how much i like talking about me, i—how do you say it?—asked you first. i am 96 percent positive you had a doctor's appointment in the morning.

[12:07 a.m.] **FenHarel** (to **TheMagician** ): Yes, I do. I was unable to sleep.

[12:07 a.m.] **FenHarel** (to **TheMagician** ): Also, I vomited.

[12:09 a.m.] **TheMagician** : i'm sorry.

[12:10 a.m.] **FenHarel** (to **TheMagician** ): It's not your fault.

[12:11 a.m.] **FenHarel** (to **redjenny4** ): I'm going to bed.

[12:11 a.m.] **TheMagician** : i know. i feel better if i say it, though. no idea why.

[12:12 a.m.] **TheMagician** : i need a drink.

[12:13 a.m.] **redjenny4** : what a loser

* * *

Solas can hear footsteps. They're gentle. Any softer, and they would be tiptoes. He sees the white shoes enter the room, and then the cheerful "Hello!" from his nurse. She's wearing purple scrubs today. Solas doesn't think he's seen her wear those before. He wants to tell her this, tell her she looks good today, but he can't bring himself to do it. He tilts his head back, against the wall.

She checks his IV, her fingers tracing along the inside of his forearm, delicate. Her fingernails are purple. Solas doesn't know if the touches she's giving him are absent. He doesn't draw attention to them if they are.

"You're almost done, Solas," she says. "I bet you can't wait to get out of here." Her tone is playful. She's the only light source in the room.

Solas crosses his ankles, curls his toes. He can't get a reply out fast enough, so he just smiles.

She laughs. "Me, too." She pats the back of his wrist before withdrawing her hand. She takes the seat across from him. Since Solas is usually the only occupant in the room, she sits with him from time to time. She would often tease Solas, ask him why he never brought a family member or a friend to sit with him, because he couldn't possibly like sitting here, staring angrily at the wall every session. He doesn't do that, he told her, and she had given him a look, and he had given her one right back.

Today, she teases him some more. She starts with his hat. "I could knit you a new one," she says, leaning back in her chair. She sets each arm on the armrest, shoulders low, chin tilted up. She's ready for attack, ready to defend.

Solas is less than elegant right now. "Only if it's the color of your nails."

She trips a little, has forgotten the color of her nails. She glances at them, then regains her posture. "I shall do my best. Although, I do not think I have that color yarn."

Solas smiles. She does, too. She becomes professional once more. "Are you experiencing any side effects?"

Solas becomes professional, as well. "Fatigue."

"Nausea?"

"Terribly. I don't think the medication is working."

She stands. "I think you're just not taking it." Her voice is full of air, almost like a song. She's next to Solas again, claiming the chair next to him as her own. Solas can smell lavender on her. He immediately shifts his weight toward her, his head against the wall again. "I can up the dosage for you?" she suggests. "Maybe that'll help you some. I've noticed how you lost some weight since your last visit."

Solas looks down.

She presses her lips together, looks down with him.

He raises his head first. He stares at her, eyes following a tendril of her hair as it flows behind her ear. Her hair looks like powder—powder with sun serving as highlights. At her temples, there are traces of makeup—foundation. Near her hairline, the foundation is thin, and Solas can see a faint pattern of stars along her skin. He nearly loses his breath, and he doesn't know why. She notices. She looks up, and Solas can see a hint of blush along her cheekbones. She's swift. She gives Solas a grin. "How about I get you a lollipop? The kids love them."

Solas manages to smile. He shakes his head. "I'm not a kid."

Before she gets up, Solas catches the name tag on her shirt. It has the same stars outlining it as on her temples. Within the outline, the name "Ellana" is contained. It's written in cursive script. Solas doesn't understand why he feels like he's about to take off flying.

On his way out, she tells him she's going to send in a higher dose of medication for him. "We can't have your stomach so upset, Solas." She gives the back of his arm a rub. "Oh! Almost forgot." She hands him a lollipop, eyes narrowed, the corner of her lip curled into a smile. She's daring him. Take it, take it.

Solas takes it. "Thank you, Ellana."

Ellana's smile is the softest thing Solas has ever seen.

* * *

Dorian texts Solas when he's about to head to bed. It's late, and Solas' head is hurting. He hasn't been able to sleep for the last few hours, but he should be able to soon. Right? Right.

 _i swear if you're asleep_ , _i will kill you_.

Solas thinks he's dead right now, so Dorian killing him would be just fine.

 _What_?

Dorian begins typing instantly. _no one else is online_ , _and i am absolutely positive i have found 2 fine men who are up for taking down this dragon with us_.

Solas has to sit there for a moment to make sense of the text. He knows it has to be about the game; he makes sense of that much. Now, about the dragon…?

 _I don't remember a dragon_.

 _we need a 4-person party_ , _and since you are up_ … _do i really need to spell this out for you_ , _solas_?

Solas gets online. He has two friend requests.

 _ **Thom_Rainier and the_iron_bull would like to be your friend**_.

 _ **Thom_Rainier**_ , _ **the_iron_bull**_ , _**and you are now friends**_.

 _ **You have 1 new game chat**_.

Solas rolls his eyes.

[03:11 a.m.] **TheMagician** : hurry, hurry, hurry.

[03:12 a.m.] **FenHarel** : Okay.

Solas joins Dorian's party. He doesn't know where they exactly are, but he goes along with it. It's three in the morning. Solas pulls on his headset.

[03:14 a.m.] **TheMagician** : i have no fucking clue who that thom rainier man is, but bull said he could be useful.

Bull must be the one with the horns, then.

[03:15 a.m.] **FenHarel** : I was on my way to bed.

[03:16 a.m.] **TheMagician** : bullshit! you make me laugh.

Dorian exits the game chat in favor of using his voice. He would never pass up a chance for others to hear him talk. "I would like to apologize upfront about my friend. He has been ill for… He has been ill." Dorian's voice drifts off, but then he's as strong as ever. Solas appreciates the introduction, but he had wished Dorian would have neglected to tell them he was ill. A cold would have been acceptable. By saying he was ill suggests something far worse, which _is_ true, but Solas doesn't want these two strangers to know that.

Solas goes down the cold route. "Yes, I have an awful head cold." He can almost picture Dorian's raised eyebrow and tilted head.

"Man, I hate those things. You sound terrible." The voice is deep, and the light-up speaker icon on the left of the screen tells Solas the player known as the_iron_bull is the one who had spoken. Solas doesn't like him, not right now. Solas doesn't have a cold, and he most certainly doesn't think he sounds terrible. He texts Dorian.

 _Do I sound terrible_?

Dorian reads his message, but doesn't reply. He's laughing. Solas can hear it, and it sounds like mocking. Solas angrily continues to play.

Thom_Rainier is silent throughout their session. Solas doesn't know if he even has on a headset, like the rest of them. He doesn't use the game chat; he only plays. He's a good player, too—he and Bull both. Without their help, Dorian and Solas would have been up playing for far longer than necessary. Regardless, Solas enjoys himself, even without prior knowledge of the dragon.

Bull says he'll split up the loot and send them what they deserve. He laughs after this. Solas has to remove his headset.

Dorian finally answers his text. _oh_ , _no_ , _you sounded perfectly normal_ , _my good man_.

Solas turns off his phone for the night.

* * *

Solas sneezes himself awake the next morning. The one sneeze turns into a fit, and now he has to stay in the bathroom and hold several pieces of toilet paper to his nose since it had started bleeding. He has a headache, and his nose is raw. It seems he has a cold. He doesn't like his luck.

* * *

 _ **You have 1 new message**_.

 **From** : redjenny4 [06:33 a.m.]  
 **Subject** : (no subject)  
you're an elfy person yeah? yeah you've got the ears i mean i've got the ears too but that doesnt matter im asking you a question which is: what are those silly little tattoos some of these elfy people have on their faces? ur smart so i just thought youd know

 **To** : redjenny4 [09:57 a.m.]  
 **Subject** : re:  
Some elves don't have the markings on their faces. The ones who do are often Dalish, and the markings are called vallaslin. It's essentially blood writing. The Dalish believe they are to honor the elven gods, but they are actually slave markings—shown to represent what god their noble preferred.

 **From** : redjenny4 [10:12 a.m.]  
 **Subject** : re: re:  
sooooo thats stupid the dalish r stupid i'm gonna tell my gf shes stupid thanks solas!

Solas doesn't understand. It sounds like Sera has a girlfriend—a Dalish girlfriend at that. Had they met in the game? Solas doesn't know how dating would go in this game. He supposes it's just like any other relationship on the Internet. He doesn't have much experience in that, however.

 **To** : redjenny4 [10:20 a.m.]  
 **Subject** : re: re: re:  
I wish you luck in this endeavor.

* * *

Dorian stops by Solas' apartment one evening. He has another package of socks. "Did you need some new ones? I feel like you needed some new ones."

Solas takes them. "It's always good to have more socks than needed, I should think."

Dorian invites himself in. "It looks like you could do with some company." Little does Solas know this is a ploy for Dorian to acquire a drinking buddy tonight. Solas is adamant. Inebriation would not suit him well, especially in his already weakened state. He is only just starting to get over his cold.

Solas goes into his bedroom. "No, Dorian."

Dorian follows. "Why on earth not? You need to loosen up a bit. Well, not even a bit—more like several bits, if you ask me. It'll be fun."

Solas sits on his bed. He opens the socks and pulls on a pair. "No."

Dorian sits next to him. "Are you arguing that you, in fact, do not need to be loosened up?"

Solas is silent. Dorian bounces on the bed. "Has this ever been broken in? We'll have to do something about that, won't we?"

"Will we?"

"Of course!" Dorian stands. He takes hold of Solas and helps him stand, despite the squirming and constant protest. "We're—going—out. You—need—fresh—air."

"I have an appointment in the morning." Solas becomes limp.

Dorian tosses Solas over his shoulder and takes him from the room. "You don't even have to drink! Your presence will make my night ten times better. Have you lost weight?"

* * *

Solas discovers he is quite good at playing cards. When Dorian isn't looking, Solas would take money from his pockets and use it to gamble. Solas is a bad friend in that aspect, but when he returns to Dorian with more money than what they came with, Solas thinks his status as a bad friend disappears pretty quickly.

Dorian is sitting at the counter. Solas takes the seat next to him. "I don't even know why I came out," Dorian says, fingers encasing a shot glass. Solas watches him toss it back. "It just makes me… depressed."

Solas stares. "Why?" He considers the atmosphere of the night fairly pleasant, and Solas is enjoying himself.

"I'm sure you can relate when I say I'm lonely." Solas tries not to get upset. He twiddles his thumbs. Dorian continues, "I don't even know why. I've met someone, you know, in that game. I have a boyfriend."

"What's his name?"

Dorian gets two shots this time. He slides one over to Solas. "I don't know his name. I call him—what do I call him? Oh, right. _Amatus_." Dorian takes the shot. He winces as he swallows. "That's Tevene," he says, pointing at himself. "Because I'm from the Tevinter Imperium, yes? Yes."

"A term of endearment, I take it?" Solas eyes the shot glass.

"Beloved." Dorian looks sad. He reaches out, pushes the glass closer to Solas. "He's my beloved. I haven't even met him yet, in real life, but he's my beloved." Dorian sets his head on the counter, using his arm as a cushion. "Do you have a beloved?"

Solas sees stars. He shakes his head. "No." After checking on Dorian, Solas swallows the shot, and then proceeds to use Dorian's head as his own pillow.

* * *

Solas remembers her name is Ellana. When she walks into the room, he smiles at her. She smiles back. "Someone's eager to get their bloodstream filled with some chemicals today." She's too cheerful for this job, but cheerful is part of the job requirements. Being around death all the time would force someone to be in a constant state of moving on, letting go. Solas admires her.

She sits with him this time, too. Instead of leaving and then coming back, she decides to sit with him from the start. Solas does his best at not moving his arm as he turns toward her. She speaks again. "I'm almost done with your hat. I went out and bought yarn that looked exactly like my nails just for you." She looks at her nails. They're a shade of light blue today. "Well, the purple you requested—that's the color yarn I bought."

"You didn't have to," Solas says. "It's just a hat."

"You look good in them!" she says, and touches Solas' arm, allowing her thumb to stroke along the curve of his wrist. "I like knitting." Her voice is quiet. "I normally make the hats for the kids, because…" She drifts off, shrugging a shoulder. She won't meet Solas' eye as she continues stroking a thin line into Solas' wrist.

"I understand," Solas says. It seems strange to hear right now. He scans her, eyes following that strand of hair behind her ear again. She has done a better job at covering her facial tattoos today. Solas can't see the stars. Ellana's head raises. She moves. Solas has been caught staring. She doesn't seem affected, though—only gives him another smile. Solas is still compelled to apologize. "Forgive me." That's all he says. She looks confused. Before she can say anything, before she can ask Solas what he needs to be forgiven for, Solas inquires with a hopeful heart and a less-than-confident voice, "Do you ever get any free time? I imagine your job takes up most of it." He references the knitting. His question seems a bit demanding, a little rushed. Anyone would be able to infer he has not done this in a while.

Ellana blinks once. She removes her hand from Solas' wrist. "I do get free time." She laughs lightly. "I know that's not what you were asking…"

Solas' shoulders falter, but he holds his position.

"I'm actually seeing someone at the moment." There is an "I'm sorry" at the end, but it never vocalizes. Solas doesn't know how to react, so he doesn't. He stares at her, and she stares at him. Slowly, she stands from the chair. "I'll be right back."

She doesn't come back, not right away. Solas lets down his guard. He sits in that chair and, more or less, glares at the wall. His insides are a mess. His heart is thudding. It's loud, loud, loud.

When he finishes the session, Ellana helps him out. Her hand is on his back, stuck beneath his bookbag. Before he leaves, she gives him two lollipops. He hesitates before taking them. His fingers are trembling.

* * *

He might as well be twice her age. Even if she were interested in him like _that_ , it wouldn't be morally right. He could be the same age as her father. He could be _older_ than her father.

Solas doesn't get out of bed for the next week.

* * *

 _ **You have 1 new message and 1 new friend request**_.

 **From** : redjenny4 [04:11 a.m.]  
 **Subject** : heeeey  
add my gf would u? she wants to annoy u with me while we go out on quests

 _ **DalishKeeperL would like to be your friend**_.

 _ **DalishKeeperL and you are now friends**_.

* * *

 _ **You have 1 new chat**_.

[09:18 p.m.] **DalishKeeperL** : I'm sorry if it's late. I saw you were online and figured it would be okay to chat?

[09:19 p.m.] **FenHarel** : I suppose there isn't any harm in doing that.

[09:21 p.m.] **DalishKeeperL** : I like your username.

* * *

When Solas does manage to leave the bed, his first stop is to the café. Solas sees Cole before Cole sees him, which is strange. Cole actually looks surprised to see Solas. "You were lost, Solas. I couldn't feel you. And now, you're here! You're here, and you still look broken, but I'll give your veins something extra sweet." Solas can't say no.

His next stop is to see Dorian. Solas sips at his coffee as he sits behind the counter, eyeing Dorian from afar as he struggles to shove books back onto their respective shelves. On his computer, Dorian is logged into the game. He's currently on a quest, the chat window pulled up. Solas can make out Cassandra's username amongst the cursing and caps lock—mostly of Dorian's name. Solas doesn't recognize the other two users. He asks Dorian about them when he comes back around. "Who are they?" Solas points.

Dorian sighs as he scrolls through the chat log, shaking his head and tutting. "Uttermost immaturity." He closes out the window, then glances at Solas, and then at the other users on the screen. "Cassandra," Dorian says, with a smirk. He straightens up in his chair. When Solas doesn't give Dorian the reaction he had expected, Dorian pouts. "You're no fun. That one is Child of the Stone… or something. Dwarf, as you can tell. Friend of Cassandra's. His name is, I believe, Varric. He's a writer, so you can imagine the free time."

Solas raises his eyebrows in mild interest. He settles back, taking another drink from his coffee.

Dorian goes on. "Then, there's _First Enchanter_. Vivienne—you know her, yes?"

Solas does know Vivienne. She, along with Cassandra, frighten him. He doesn't say this, though. "I'm surprised Cassandra and Vivienne are able to take time from their busy lives to put some hours into a game. You, too. I'm ashamed of you. Playing while working?" Solas gives Dorian a look before spinning in his chair. He goes in a circle.

"You seem… well." Dorian clicks his mouse— _click_ , _click_ , _click_. "You actually have color in your face. Although, that could be the hot beverage you're ingesting."

"That is very plausible." Solas leaves it at that.

They're quiet. Dorian is replying to a message now. "Have I told you I'm meeting… my boyfriend this weekend?" Dorian looks at Solas from the corner of his eye. He doesn't linger long, goes straight back to the keyboard. "He lives around here. It's going to be… exciting."

Solas examines his fingernails. "Do you know what he looks like?"

Dorian doesn't say anything.

"Do you know what his name is?"

"He doesn't know what mine is either, so I imagine we'll both be in for a surprise—him more so than me, obviously. He'll be floored by my wit and charm."

Solas takes a sip from his coffee, spins in his chair again.

"We're going out drinking."

* * *

 _ **You have 2 new friend requests**_.

 _ **ChildoftheStone and FirstEnchanter would like to be your friend**_.

 _ **ChildoftheStone**_ , _ **FirstEnchanter**_ , _**and you are now friends**_.

* * *

 _ **You have 1 new chat**_.

[01:22 a.m.] **DalishKeeperL** : It's late.

[01:22 a.m.] **FenHarel** : Yes.

[01:22 a.m.] **DalishKeeperL** : What are you doing up?

[01:23 a.m.] **FenHarel** : I'm sick. I was unable to sleep.

[01:24 a.m.] **DalishKeeperL** : Work keeps me up. Maybe we could keep each other company?

[01:24 a.m.] **FenHarel** : Maybe.

[01:25 a.m.] **DalishKeeperL** : What is your favorite constellation, lethallin?

* * *

[07:14 p.m.] **SeekerCAPCFP** : No no no not over there Solas

[07:15 p.m.] **SeekerCAPCFP** : Thank you. I was about to die

[07:16 p.m.] **FenHarel** : It wasn't a problem.

Solas doesn't know how Cassandra was still able to get into near-death situations. They're not doing anything vigorous—just collecting some herbs. They don't have a full party. Cassandra's friend, Varric, is with them. So far, he hasn't participated in the chat.

[07:20 p.m.] **SeekerCAPCFP** : Have you heard about Dorian? I told him not to go

[07:22 p.m.] **FenHarel** : I am wary, as well.

[07:25 p.m.] **SeekerCAPCFP** : I know it was supposed to be a date, but I think one of us should have come with him. Stayed in the background and watched from a distance

[07:25 p.m.] **SeekerCAPCFP** : I just hope he's okay...

Solas rubs the ball of his foot.

[07:26 p.m.] **FenHarel** : I'm sure he's okay, Cassandra.

[07:27 p.m.] **SeekerCAPCFP** : Well how do you know!

[07:28 p.m.] **FenHarel** : I don't.

If Cassandra had a headset, Solas would hear her sigh.

[07:29 p.m.] **ChildoftheStone** : Well, aren't you a little ray of sunshine, Chuckles?

If Cassandra had a headset, Solas would hear her laugh.

[07:31 p.m.] **ChildoftheStone** : So what's going on here? One of your friends found himself a boy toy on here and he went out of his way to meet with this guy, what, tonight?

[07:32 p.m.] **FenHarel** : Yes.

[07:32 p.m.] **SeekerCAPCFP** : He's probably dead

[07:33 p.m.] **FenHarel** : No, he's not.

[07:35 p.m.] **ChildoftheStone** : I have some friends who are developers of this game—admins, programmers, you know it. If you want, I could get one of them to check out this guy's details. Hell, they might work with him.

Solas doesn't know anything about Dorian's boyfriend. He lets Cassandra handle the reigns, just in case she does. He makes himself a bowl of noodles. It makes his apartment warm. That doesn't stop him from burrowing under four blankets when he gets back to bed. He scrolls up to check the chats he's missed.

[07:37 p.m.] **SeekerCAPCFP** : Ok wait…

[07:38 p.m.] **SeekerCAPCFP** : I believe his username is DalishHunterL

Solas coughs. Now, _that_ looks familiar.

[7:40 p.m.] FenHarel is AFK.

[07:40 p.m.] **ChildoftheStone** : Ah, your friend's gotten himself mixed in with one of the inquisitors, hasn't he? I can already tell you he'll check out okay, but I'll let someone look into it, alright?

[07:42 p.m.] **SeekerCAPCFP** : Thank you

[07:45 p.m.] **ChildoftheStone** : I'll get my friend Curly on it. He's gotten himself mixed in with one of the inquisitors in the past. They're still together, I think. She was a Trevelyan rather than a Lavellan though.

[07:47 p.m.] **SeekerCAPCFP** : Was she who she said she was?

[07:49 p.m.] **ChildoftheStone** : Obviously the character never truly looks like the person behind it, but you know what I mean. Yes, she was who she said she was—from what I've heard. Curly could be hiding something.

[07:52 p.m.] **SeekerCAPCFP** : Thank you again Varric

[07:53 p.m.] FenHarel is no longer AFK.

Solas slurps up some noodles. He exits out the chat. His phone lights up beside him. He sees the number is Dorian's. Solas sends it to voicemail.

* * *

Solas has three texts waiting for him in the morning. They're all from Dorian, from last night.

 _you owe me a very large sum of money_. _i know you hadn't placed a bet_ , _but i feel like i need to be rolling in a pile of money right now_.

 _solas_ , _he's so beautiful_.

 _his name is mahanon_.

* * *

Cole drives Solas to his doctor's appointment again. His car is old, and when Cole presses on the brakes, the car jerks one too many times. If Solas hadn't been sick before, he most definitely is now. Cole apologizes one too many times, too, but Solas isn't upset about that. He could never be.

The car jerks at a red light. This time, Cole covers his face with his hands and says "sorry" four times. Solas sinks lower in the seat, shaking his head. He feels like he's going to vomit. Cole passes over a plastic bag. It's wrinkled, from the back seat. Cole has a whole stash in here, just for occasions like these. "I'm fine, Cole," Solas says, like he does on occasions like these, but he takes the bag and heaves into it all the same. Cole covers his ears and drives without his hands. He's good at that.

Cole pitches the bag in the bin, in the patient parking lot of the clinic. Solas stays in the car, bending at the waist, his forehead against his knees. It's cold outside, and that helps him a bit. Cole opens the passenger-side door and crouches next to Solas. His hand comes around, sets on Solas' back, and Cole holds Solas there. He doesn't move, doesn't do anything except rest his hand on Solas' back and watch him. Solas should feel self-conscious, but he doesn't have the energy to—not right now. He will later, but he's okay with sitting next to Cole, in this shitty car, and listening to his stomach fight itself.

Cole helps him inside. His hand is still on Solas' back. "I remember when I came here," Cole says, turning his head this way and that, eyes wide, a faint smile on his face. "It looks nicer now than before, when I was sick. It looks like they received a lot of money."

Solas keeps quiet.

"Do you want me to stay with you? I know you always say no, but I think I should stay. I would like to stay with you, Solas. You're my friend."

"You don't have to stay, Cole." Solas looks at his feet.

Cole stays. Solas is sitting in that small room with Cole beside him. Ellana is startled when she sees Cole. "You brought company today, Solas? What's the occasion?"

"He threw up in the car," Cole tells her. Solas shuts his eyes and shakes his head. Ellana's eyes widen, and her mouth forms a perfect _O_. "It's okay," Cole assures her, waving his hands, "it was in a bag."

"I hope he's feeling better now," she remarks, moving across the room, getting Solas' arm ready. She works swiftly, yet carefully. Every time she touches Solas, his heart skips a beat. He doesn't know what's happening.

"He's feeling better now," Cole says, before Solas can. "I don't think he's sick anymore. It's more of a sick in his chest. It's not quite in his heart, not yet, at least."

Solas closes his eyes again. Ellana pauses in her prep. "His heart…?"

"He's just… He doesn't know what he's saying." Solas gives Cole a look. Cole gives him one right back, but his look is sad, and Solas feels guilty. He looks at his feet again.

Ellana proceeds. She's out of the room before Solas can raise his head. Cole continues staring at Solas. His eyes are burning holes into the side of Solas' hat. "You're scared," he whispers. He leans in, his elbows against the arm of the chair. He's in Solas' personal space, but Solas doesn't move. His arm feels heavy. "I don't know why you're scared. You're not… only scared… There's something else in your chest. I don't know what it is, Solas. It isn't sick. I thought it was, but it isn't. I wouldn't worry about it, but there is something there." Cole settles back in his chair. He stares at Solas. "I'll tell you if I figure it out."

Solas looks ahead. "Cole, please leave."

Cole does. Solas doesn't recall seeing him walk out of the room.

* * *

Ellana doesn't have any lollipops to give to Solas when he finishes. "I gave them all to your friend," she says, pointing at Cole, who is currently atop a counter, the plastic jar of lollipops in his arms. His legs are swinging. He has on a knit hat—something he hadn't come with when he dropped Solas off. It's pink, and it matches the patchy skin under his eyes and on his chin. "I gave him the hat, too," Ellana says quietly. "He lit up when I gave it to him." She's leaning in to Solas, whispering to him. They're speaking as if Cole is their child. "I almost have your hat done, too. Don't worry. I haven't forgotten about you."

Solas stares at her. She wets her lips. "Take care, Solas."

Cole is too busy hugging the lollipops to aide Solas on their way out. "Sera texted me. She's out in the car. She wanted to come with me when I picked you up. I don't know why. She already called shotgun."

"I don't mind sitting in the back."

Cole blinks. "Oh. I thought you might have wanted to sit up front. I told her you threw up, and would probably like to sit up front, and that's when she called shotgun." He pauses. "That wasn't very nice, was it?"

"No, it wasn't. I like your hat."

Cole smiles and sticks a lollipop in his mouth.

Sera is indeed sitting in the passenger seat. Her feet are propped onto the dashboard of Cole's car, her phone in one hand, the fingers on her other hand digging a hole into her jeans. When Cole and Solas climb into the car, Sera sighs loudly. "Finally you two made it back. I was getting worried. I thought I might have'ta send a search party." She snatches a lollipop from the top of the jar. "Was everything okay, yeah? Got your fill of all those chemicals and shite?"

"Yes."

"Good, good." Sera sucks on the piece of candy, making awful slurping sounds. Cole is quieter in his lolly sucking. She looks at her phone, scrolls through her text messages. "You can go now, Cole," she says, locking her phone and letting it drop to the floor of the car. "I guess my busy girlfriend is too busy to answer her phone." Sera rolls her eyes. She keeps her feet on the dashboard. "I mean, how can she be too busy to answer me, right? It doesn't make sense."

"Is she here?" Cole asks, taking the lollipop from his mouth and sticking his keys into the ignition. "Is that why you wanted a ride?"

Sera wiggles a foot to a song only she can hear. She slurps on her lolly. "Yeah. She hasn't been answering my texts ever since we screwed. I dunno why. Bit stupid, if ya ask me. It's like she's trying to tell me I was a bad shag, which is _not true_." Sera's eyes narrow. "I told her I was here, and"—she grabs her phone from the floor, taps onto the message—"look, she's read the damn thing." She shows Cole first, then Solas. Solas sees Sera has listed her girlfriend as "Inky" in her phone. The emoji with the tongue sticking out also accompanies it.

"Her name is Inky?" Solas asks.

"Pfft, no. That'd be weird. It's just a name—not _her_ name, obviously." Sera shoves her phone back to the floor. "I know she's real, because I've fucked her. And I know she's real, because I've talked to her friends—that Curly Cullen guy or whatever. He's pretty huge, like, his muscles. I wouldn't say ripped, but he isn't lanky like you two bums. He's dating someone he met on that game, too, yeah, and he doesn't know her name. Well, he does, but I bet he didn't when they met. Well, they did, because he told me they're all friends. It's confusing. I had to draw it out to understand."

Cole pulls out of the parking lot. Sera provides them entertainment in the form of storytelling.

"There's these three people, okay? Cullen told me this. Cullen's one of the people, but, yeah, there's these three people, and their names are Cullen, Josephine, and Leliana. They get bored of their lives one day, and they're like 'let's just ruin everybody's lives with this _stupid_ game!', so that's what they do. They ruin people's lives, because their lives are ruined. Like, for instance, Josephine—she's a lawyer or something. It sounded complicated. I would hate to be a lawyer. I don't even know what Leliana does. It sounded even more complicated and stupid than Josephine's job." Sera finishes her lollipop and digs out another one from the jar. She's currently holding it captive. Cole is content with only having one. Sera tosses the wrapper to the floor. "Then, there's Cullen. He's _really_ fucked up." Sera laughs at this. "He's something professional and stupid, something like ex-military. I dunno. He was into these really heavy drugs—went to rehab and everything, so he's better now. I think he's the most ruined out of all of them. He's just replacing one stupid addiction with another, and that's stupid. Everything's wasted."

"Sera, do you know you talk a lot? You talk a lot, and it has no meaning." Cole chews on his thumb nail.

Sera digs out another lollipop. She throws this wrapper at Cole's head. "Shut it. It has meaning to me. Mr. Old Hat back there isn't complaining, and he's, like, smart and shite." She points a thumb at Solas. Solas is looking out of the window, but he's listening. He doesn't give Sera any support. She blows a raspberry and continues talking regardless. "Now, where was I? Oh, that's right—talking about the stupid people behind this stupid game." It sounds as if Sera is projecting her own aggression against her girlfriend onto the game, but Solas doesn't say this. Cole might. "They have this idea for this stupid game, and so that's why they're, like, the admins, yeah? And obviously, they need people who are as stupid as them to test this game, and those are the beta testers, yeah? And those beta testers are the stupid inquisitors." She pronounces the last word with an uptight tone. She grabs another lollipop. "And it's all stupid. There are only eight of them. Out of the whole world, there are only eight people they asked to beta test their game. What if those people were biased? What if they were the stupidest people _ever_ , which they are, but that's not the point. There were eight stupid people, and I know their names. I know their names, and I'm gonna tell them to you. I know it's not right, but it's not like I'm giving out their addresses. Don't give me that look; nobody likes a grumpy old guy in the backseat."

Solas doesn't know where Sera is coming from, but he goes along with it. He crosses his ankles and feels along his arm. He scratches it.

Sera grabs her phone again. She checks her messages first, sees she has none, and then goes onto an email. Cole is paying attention to the road. Solas can't tell if Cole is even listening to Sera. "Okay, here it is, yeah? There's two of 'em—a boy an' a girl, I'm assuming. It's bad to do that, but I am. There's two of 'em, okay? The Dwarf Inquisitors are Edric and Malika Cadash. I've talked to Malika before—she's pretty cute. The Qunari Inquisitors—y'know, the ones with the horny horns—are Kaaras and Herah Adaar. I'm probably butchering their names. I'm sorry, yeah? Yeah. Next, there are the Human Inquisitors. Their names are Maxwell and Evelyn Trevelyan. Curly Cullen is shagging Evelyn still. They're living together, too. True love does exist." Sera says this bitterly. She sticks her tongue out at a vehicle while they're at a red light. When the light turns green, she goes back to her phone. "And then"—she gives Cole and Solas a dark look—"there are the Lavellans. They're _Dalish_ , and they're brother and sister—twins, in fact. Mahanon is the boy. I think Mr. Pavus is dating him. Right?" She reaches over and pokes Cole's earlobe.

Cole glances at her. "Yes." They're at another red light.

Sera swings her legs off the dashboard, groaning. "I need a massage. Okay, Mr. Pavus is dating Mahanon Lavellan, and I am dating his stupid sister who's living such a busy life that she can't even text me back—me, her lovely girlfriend, who would do anything for her, even lick her friggin' boots." Sera wraps her arms around herself. She's quiet, looking out of the window.

Solas and Cole take turns staring at each other, and then at Sera. Cole is the one to speak. "Do you want to get ice cream?"

"Yes." Sera is blunt, and that makes Solas smile. He grabs his backpack and looks inside.

"I can pay for it."

* * *

 _ **You have 2 new chats**_.

[09:06 p.m.] **TheMagician** : are you up for some quests? i think cassandra is up to do something.

[09:08 p.m.] **DalishKeeperL** : How are you?

[09:09 p.m.] **FenHarel** (to **DalishKeeperL** ): I'm relatively well. How are you?

[09:11 p.m.] **DalishKeeperL** : The same could be said for me, I would think. I'm currently trying to bandage my finger.

[09:12 p.m.] **FenHarel** (to **DalishKeeperL** ): Oh, that isn't good. What happened?

[09:13 p.m.] **DalishKeeperL** : I cut it. It's so small, but the small ones always hurt the most.

[09:14 p.m.] **FenHarel** (to **DalishKeeperL** ): What happened? Is it a paper cut? I always hate getting those.

[09:15 p.m.] **FenHarel** (to **TheMagician** ): I was about to go to bed, actually. I wanted to check my notifications before I did so.

[09:16 p.m.] **DalishKeeperL** : No, it isn't a paper cut. I hate those, too. I was making something for my friend, and my hand slipped. I'll be okay. I didn't get blood anywhere!

[09:16 p.m.] **TheMagician** : aw, that's a shame. it's a little early, even for you. stomachache?

[09:18 p.m.] **FenHarel** (to **DalishKeeperL** ): That's highly fortunate.

[09:19 p.m.] **DalishKeeperL** : I know! I was very proud of myself.

[09:20 p.m.] **FenHarel** (to **DalishKeeperL** ): I am very proud of you, too.

[09:20 p.m.] **FenHarel** (to **TheMagician** ): Yes. Goodnight.

[09:21 p.m.] **DalishKeeperL** : Thank you. I hope I'm not keeping you from anything, it being a weeknight and all. You might have work.

[09:22 p.m.] **TheMagician** : i hope you feel better soon.

[09:23 p.m.] **FenHarel** (to **DalishKeeperL** ): You are not keeping me from anything, lethallan. I am out of work, and I am able to talk all night with you.

[09:26 p.m.] **DalishKeeperL** : Out of work? I hope that's not fancy talk for "I still live with my mother in my thirties".

[09:27 p.m.] **FenHarel** (to **DalishKeeperL** ): Of course not. I have my own place.

[09:27 p.m.] **FenHarel** (to **TheMagician** ): I'm sure it'll pass by morning. I forgot to take my medication at the appropriate time.

[09:28 p.m.] **DalishKeeperL** : But your mother still lives with you, right?

[09:29 p.m.] **FenHarel** (to **DalishKeeperL** ): No, I live by myself.

[09:29 p.m.] **DalishKeeperL** : Good.

[09:30 p.m.] **DalishKeeperL** : I don't know why that's good.

[09:30 p.m.] **TheMagician** : you need to set an alarm for that sort of stuff, i'd imagine.

[09:31 p.m.] **FenHarel** (to **TheMagician** ): Yes.

[09:31 p.m.] **FenHarel** (to **DalishKeeperL** ): It gives you the thought of me having a source of stability in the form of my own place. Perhaps the thought of me living by myself, in my own place, brings forth implicitly intimate ideas of what I do with all my free time in my own place, since I am unemployed and living by myself.

[09:36 p.m.] DalishKeeperL is AFK.

[09:40 p.m.] DalishKeeperL is no longer AFK.

[09:41 p.m.] **DalishKeeperL** : Maybe.

* * *

Solas had never gotten the impression Vivienne would have been the one to religiously play this game to the point of already hitting the level cap. It's astonishing, yet somehow, in retrospect, he isn't surprised.

"What else was I supposed to do?" Vivienne says one night, while they're exploring a dwarven tomb. It also doesn't surprise Solas Vivienne would have a headset.

"Perhaps go to work," Dorian suggests. "I sit at a computer all day, and yet I'm only on level eleven."

"Twelve," Solas says.

From the game chat, the user known as Thom_Rainier says he is on level fifteen. He has a headset, but he's choosing to reply by text. Solas doesn't blame him. Sometimes Solas has doubts when using his voice, especially when he's sick, like he is right now. He doesn't know what's wrong this time. It feels like a cold, but… a tad off. He tries not to think about it.

Dorian is talking about how low of a level he is, despite being only one level behind Solas. "I bet Cole is a lower level than me," he reasons. "The kid never gets on."

"He's a student, and he works when he isn't studying. I'm sure he has better things to do with his time." Solas removes his headset before blowing his nose.

Dorian tuts. "Excuses, excuses."

Vivienne sighs. "All of this loot is too low of level for my character. I'm sure you three will find a better use for it."

Solas has to hold a tissue to his nose. It's running. Thom_Rainier is typing. He tells his thanks to Vivienne. Vivienne laughs. It sounds extremely charming. "And you're welcome, Blackwall. I think you two, my dears, can learn some manners from this gentlemen."

Vivienne is the first to log off, then Thom_Rainier, now known as Blackwall. Dorian huffs a bit over the headset. "Blackwall. I never knew that. It sounds like a title, yet it fits him."

Solas blows his nose in Dorian's ear.

* * *

 _ **You have 1 new message**_.

 **From** : redjenny4 [03:01 a.m.]  
 **Subject** : (no subject)  
i kno its late & i know ur not going to get this message until morning but yeah txt me you're like smart & shite if u dont have my # get it from cole or sumthin just txt me

It's ten in the morning. Solas is reading and rereading the message. He doesn't know why Sera would insist on him texting her. The thought, frankly, frightens him. Sera intimidates him. She's tough, and it would take a lot for her to submit to asking him for help.

Solas already has Sera's number saved. She had texted him once, at the start of the school year, asking about homework. He normally gives his students his phone number, but he almost never gets in contact with them. Cole and Sera are those rare expectations.

Solas thinks Sera might be in class, but he still tries. He sends her a plain greeting, and then gets up to blow his nose. His throat is aching. He hopes Sera doesn't call him.

Thankfully, she doesn't.

 _hey im sorry if this is weird idk i just_ … _i broke up with my gf_ & _i dont have anybody to talk 2_

 _How are you feeling_? _Still sore, even to the same degree as this morning when you sent the message_?

 _yeeeeeees make it stop_

Solas isn't good at this.

 _I've heard Cole is rather good at that_. _Perhaps he and you could hang out_.

 _im not shagging him_

 _I wasn't saying you should_.

 _good_ … _idt he even likes sex_ … _im sorry for bothering u you're probably busy_

 _I'm sick_. _I'm never busy_.

 _thats stupid_

 _Why did you break up with her_?

It's a genuine question. It gives him some time to swallow down some medication for his sore throat, too. He debates on making tea, but he detests the stuff. He wonders if it'll do his throat any good. He makes hot chocolate instead. Sera texts him back.

 _its stupid we were always fighting_ & _yeah we had sex_ & _she was scared because shes pretty much still in the closet which is stupid i was wanting to move forward in our relationship but shes stupid_ & _we broke up i think i liked her more than she liked me tbh_

Solas sits on a counter, sitting next to the microwave as it hums with his beverage inside. He feels cold. He wants to hold Sera's ex-girlfriend. She needs to know everything's going to be all right.

 _That isn't stupid_.

 _it is 2 me_

The hot chocolate does wonders to Solas' throat.

* * *

It's late, but it's always late when they talk. Solas is the one to initiate the conversation this time around. He figures that's okay. It says she's currently online. He takes his chance.

[01:42 a.m.] **FenHarel** : Could I have a word?

[01:43 a.m.] **DalishKeeperL** : I'd feel more comfortable if you had more than a word.

[01:46 a.m.] **FenHarel** : I don't know if Sera has told you, but I know her in real life, and she has confided in me about the end of your relationship. I am not here on her behalf to tell you off or to call you stupid, as I'm sure she has done enough of. I am only here to tell you that it's okay, and you needn't feel ashamed nor like an idiot. If you ever need anyone to talk to, lethallan, I am here. As you know, I am more than a little unemployed, so, normally, I will be able to respond to your messages with ample timing. I am sick right now, so I apologize if this doesn't make sense.

Solas thinks it's adequate. It makes sense to him right now, at this very moment, so he hopes it makes sense to her. He goes to pull on socks. When he returns, he finds that she is offline, and he can't help feeling sick to his stomach. It's an automatic reaction. He has done something wrong.

She is back online in under a minute. Solas remembers how to breathe. He watches her type.

[01:58 a.m.] **DalishKeeperL** : Sorry, my internet kicked me off there. Thank you for those extremely kind words. I'm okay now. I'll be better in a day or two. Ask me then.

[02:01 a.m.] **FenHarel** : I'll keep that in mind.

[02:02 a.m.] **DalishKeeperL** : Don't log off. Please.

[02:02 a.m.] **FenHarel** : I wasn't planning to. Is there something the matter?

[02:03 a.m.] **DalishKeeperL** : Maybe I'm not actually okay now. Maybe I need someone to take my mind off things.

[02:05 a.m.] **FenHarel** : Perhaps we could wander around? See where the night takes us?

[02:05 a.m.] **DalishKeeperL** : I'd like that.

They go to a simple area. The grass is dry. Solas can hear the _crunch_ , _crunch_ of their characters' feet through his speakers. He debates on grabbing his headset, but he sees her typing. She may not have a headset.

[02:08 a.m.] **DalishKeeperL** : Your character doesn't have any shoes—not even socks!

[02:09 a.m.] **FenHarel** : Ah, yes. A problem I have not found a solution to.

[02:10 a.m.] **DalishKeeperL** : I do have some armor I could give you. They might not give you shoes, but they are definitely more fashionable than the drab clothing you have on right on.

[02:11 a.m.] **FenHarel** : I will do my best not to be offended.

She sends him a Battlemage Mail. It's a deep red color and has wolf fur. Solas blinks.

[02:14 a.m.] **FenHarel** : I have no words to express my thanks.

[02:15 a.m] **DalishKeeperL** : I had a feeling you would like it, Dread Wolf.

* * *

They talk every night. Solas doesn't know what he's doing.

* * *

Ellana gives Solas a hug when he leaves. "Have a good week, Solas!" She gives him cough drops and tells him his hat is almost finished. "I know I said that last time, but I really mean it. Next time I see you, you're getting that hat."

* * *

They're sitting on a beach. The water is coming dangerously close to their bodies, but since this is a video game, the water never touches them. Solas is taking drops of water and turning them into ice between his fingers. She's doing the same, but she makes the ice melt, makes the water evaporate. Solas knows it's only a game with good graphics, but when their characters make eye contact, he sees _something_ there. Solas doesn't know what, but he thinks she sees it, too. She moves her character over, and now they're sitting beside each other on this little beach, her head on his shoulder, her hand touching his arm. Her fingers are tracing shapes in his skin. Solas scratches his arm.

* * *

It isn't long before they kiss. It's heated. It's intense. Solas' character has a mind of its own. His hands are all over her body, groping her rear, pulling her close, stuffing a knee between her thighs. He can hear lips moving, feet shuffling, breaths being exchanged. His face is red.

She sends him a new chat when they depart.

[12:36 a.m.] **DalishKeeperL** : Tell me what you'd do to me.

* * *

They exchange numbers. It's easier that way.

He has her name listed as "Vhenan", as he doesn't know her name. She doesn't know his name either, so she tells him he is under the wolf emoji in her phone.

 _Maybe you can't understand genius_ , _but it's funny_.

Solas smiles.

* * *

When Solas had said it had made things easier—the exchanging of numbers—he isn't talking about just the day-to-day conversations. He's talking about those moments in the middle of the night, when they're under the blankets, fighting sleep, breathing into their pillows, pleading, "Tell me I can come."

Solas doesn't know what he's doing.

* * *

Dorian and Cole are in the library. Cole is at the counter, while Dorian is sitting behind it. They're staring at Solas. Their eyes know something, but their mouths won't betray them. Solas stands there. "Am I allowed to nap here again?"

Dorian allows him that much. Solas sits behind the counter. Dorian turns back to Cole. Cole is wearing that hat again. He looks happy. However, the words he's speaking aren't happy.

"She came to my house yesterday. I didn't know she knew where I lived. My mom thought it was my girlfriend, but I had to explain to her she was just a friend from school."

Solas knows he shouldn't be listening. He's facing away from the conversation, eyes closed, his backpack as a pillow.

Dorian laughs. "You can't have girls over?"

Cole blinks. "Is there something stopping them?"

"No. Please, continue."

"She wasn't upset. She said she wasn't upset, but I could feel she was. I took it away from her, and now I think she's okay. She keeps asking me for whatever I gave her. I don't want to give her anymore, because I'm running low, and I would like to save some for myself."

Solas cracks a smile. He can almost see the look Dorian is giving Cole. "Did you give Sera marijuana?"

"It helped."

When Cole leaves, Dorian slides over to Solas. He knows Solas couldn't possibly have fallen asleep yet. "There's word on the grapevine you're currently seeing someone."

Solas raises his head. He's sure he has a zipper mark on his face somewhere. "Where is this grapevine?"

Dorian stares at him. Solas stares right back. Dorian continues, "I heard from Mahanon you are seeing his sister—the sister Sera has recently broken up with."

Solas sets his head on his backpack again. "I don't know what I'm doing," he admits.

Dorian picks a thread off Solas' shoulder.

* * *

 _ **You have 1 new message**_.

 **From** : DalishKeeperL [05:34 p.m.]  
 **Subject** : The Vallaslin  
Sera had said they were slave markings.

 **To** : DalishKeeperL [11:17 p.m.]  
 **Subject** : re: The Vallaslin  
Yes. I told her.

 **From** : DalishKeeperL [11:23 p.m.]  
 **Subject** : re: re: The Vallaslin  
Remove it.

He does. They're beside a pool of water. It's dark out. They're holding fingers, touching arms. They can't keep their hands off each other.

[11:33 p.m.] **FenHarel** : You are so beautiful.

He doesn't know what's happening inside his chest. His heart feels ready to give out.

Her face is bright. The moon is reflecting off the water's surface. They're kissing again. Solas feels sick.

[11:42 p.m.] **FenHarel** : I am sorry. It's late. I have been keeping you up for a day too many. It will never happen again.

[11:43 p.m.] **DalishKeeperL** : Solas…

[11:43 p.m.] **FenHarel** : Please, vhenan.

[11:44 p.m.] **DalishKeeperL** : Solas…

[11:44 p.m.] **DalishKeeperL** : Don't leave me. Not now.

[11:44 p.m.] **DalishKeeperL** : I love you.

[11:45 p.m.] **FenHarel** : You do not know that.

[11:46 p.m.] **DalishKeeperL** : Yes, I do. I am certain.

[11:47 p.m.] **FenHarel** : You have a rare and marvelous spirit. In another world…

[11:47 p.m.] **DalishKeeperL** : Why not this one?

[11:48 p.m.] **FenHarel** : I can't.

[11:48 p.m.] **FenHarel** : I'm sorry.

He leaves her.

* * *

Solas throws up three times that night. He can't tell if it's from nerves, or if he's sick.

* * *

Solas can't hold down any food. Whatever he puts in comes out in only a matter of hours, and more often than not, in only a matter of minutes. He texts Cole, since he had been in the same boat as Solas years prior. He doesn't offer much assistance.

 _Is it the nausea from chemo_? _Have you tried the medicinal marijuana_? _It worked extremely well for me_.

Cole even suggests coming over.

 _I have some on me_. _It's not the medicinal kind_ , _but I'm sure it'll help you_.

 _No_ , _Cole_.

* * *

When it gets to the point of Solas becoming unable to hold down any form of liquid, he calls Dorian, asks him for a ride to the doctor. After explaining himself, Dorian is outraged and more than a little upset. "The doctor?" He scoffs. "Solas, I'm dragging you to a hospital."

Solas isn't dragged anywhere. Dorian is actually very gentle with him. He aides him in pulling on more socks than necessary, slipping on shoes, and bundling up in more layers than one would possibly need at this time of year. Solas is thankful, though, because he is cold, and his body aches. He tries not to be dramatic, but he groans a lot, especially in the car ride there. Dorian can't stop laughing. "You're so bizarre. I hope I don't sound like that when I'm sick."

"Oh, no," Solas says, finding the pockets of one of the many heavy coats he's wearing and shoving in his hands. "This is what you sound like when you're intoxicated."

Dorian makes an offended gasp. "I'm always intoxicated. How dare you."

Solas is admitted to the hospital. He gets an IV shoved into his arm. He's tired of his poor arm being stabbed. He wants to get better.

They tell him it's the flu. He should have known. "Just your luck, right?" Dorian is a great friend. He's sitting next to Solas, holding onto his dozens of coats. Solas feels small in this gown, in this bed.

He doesn't expect visitors, but Cassandra and Vivienne show up. Vivienne is in a pantsuit, and Cassandra is still in her uniform. "Always serving and protecting," Cassandra jokes. Solas manages to smile.

Vivienne somehow ends up sitting in the only chair in the room. She's talking to Dorian about their favorite designers. Cassandra is on the bed with Solas. They're playing Uno. She had brought the pack, insisted that there is nothing entertaining they could do in a hospital. "I hate hospitals," she says, drawing a card from the deck. "You would have thought they would have gotten to me faster when I was involved in that knife fight. No, I had to wait for almost an hour with a towel to my face. It hurt, and my arms were tired."

"I can only imagine." Solas hasn't been shot at nor stabbed, and he wants to keep it that way. He sets down a yellow card. Cassandra glares at him as she draws another card. "I do have cancer, though," Solas says, "so, I think I might know how much a terrible job hospitals and waiting can be." Cassandra glares at him again. Solas gives her one right back. He puts down another yellow card.

When Solas wins, Dorian and Vivienne join in. Cassandra is upset from her past loss, but she continues to play. This time, Solas wins again.

Vivienne is a good sport. She laughs her enchanting laugh and smiles at him. "You're brilliant at this, darling."

Dorian is a child. "You're sick. We're just letting you win."

Cassandra is shaking her head.

Solas feels warm.

* * *

Dorian can't stay the night. He squeezes Solas' shoulder, pats his head. "Are you cold? I would expect having no hair would make you cold all the time." Solas gives him a look. Dorian taps Solas' nose. "Cole's coming. I think he's bringing Sera. I know, I'm sorry." Dorian smiles, gives Solas' nose another poke.

Solas stays there, eyes narrowing. "Please, stop."

Dorian pokes Solas' nose again. "I'll be back tomorrow."

As Dorian leaves the room, Cole and Sera walk in. Sera is carrying flowers. She sets them on the table, next to Solas' bed. "Ta-da! They're lovely, aren't they?" Cole sits down in the chair. Sera sits on the bed. She stares at the flowers. "I know they look ugly, but they're pretty ugly to me." She snorts.

Cole picks at his nails. Sera fiddles with a flower. Solas watches her. His heart rate monitor is picking up speed. It's not noticeable enough for the nurses to check on him, but it's noticable enough to grab Sera's attention. She raises her head and looks at the machine, then at Solas. Her face twists as she laughs, holding her stomach. "Are you nervous? Scared, even? Worried I'm 'bout to chew off your 'ead?"

Solas looks at the blankets. "What I did was—"

"What you did was perfectly normal, yeah." Sera nods. "She's cool, you're smart, you two together would probably be, like, cookies and milk." Sera's shoulders drop for a moment, her brow furrowed. "I love cookies and milk."

"You aren't upset?" Solas is confused.

"Nah. I already took her to bed, and that's all that matters, right?" She laughs again. "I mean, obviously not, but no, I'm not upset. Things didn't work out. I'm not gonna pout and piss myself whenever my exes get together with someone else. I'm with someone else. I've moved on. She should, too." Sera swings her legs over the edge of the bed. They're long. Her feet are touching the floor despite the height of the bed.

"We're not together."

Sera tilts her head to the side. "What?"

Solas won't raise his head. "We're not together," he repeats.

He expects Sera to laugh, to make fun of either his age or her ex. Instead, she blows a raspberry. "Man, that sucks. How are ya gonna get off now?"

* * *

During the odd hours of the night, after visiting hours have passed, Solas is lying in bed. He hears buzzing, and he realizes the flowers Sera has given him have brought in bees.

Solas pulls the blanket over his head. He can almost hear Sera cackling in his ear.

* * *

Solas is able to hold down some applesauce in the morning. He doesn't like applesauce, but they told him he wasn't allowed to jump into eating heavier breakfast foods. His stomach still feels sick, but he's getting better.

Today, his first visitor is Dorian. He brings Solas his phone charger. "It's probably dead, yes?" Dorian plugs it in for Solas. "Thought you might have needed this."

"I did. Thank you."

Dorian says he can't stay long. He had taken the day off, and he's planning to have lunch with Mahanon. Dorian's face lights up when he talks about him. "Everything's great."

Solas doesn't get another visitor until that evening. It's Ellana. Somehow, she looks unnatural in this room. She doesn't have the familiar blue walls of his chemotherapy room around her, and she doesn't have on her name tag. She is wearing scrubs—mint ones this time. The braid her hair is knotted into is coming loose. She's had a rough day.

"You didn't show up to your appointment yesterday," she says, making her way over to his bed. Solas sets his phone in the bed with him. He had been playing Tetris, if anyone were to ask. Ellana doesn't ask. "I was worried about you."

"I completely forgot about it. I was too busy… here." Solas frowns for a moment. He straightens up right after. "I think I should apologize, but I don't think contracting the flu would be something to apologize for."

They laugh. She sounds tired, but she's happy. Her eyes tell Solas that much. She drops her bag onto the bed in order to dig inside it. Solas watches her with mild amusement. "Here we are," she says, placing a wrapped present in Solas' lap. The wrapping paper is mint, too—perhaps it was a subconscious decision.

"What's this?" Solas picks it up. It feels like fabric—thick fabric. He blinks. "Is this—?"

Ellana tuts, raising a finger. "Open it. Don't talk. I don't want to hear you talk unless it's to thank me." She smiles. Solas smiles, too.

It's his new knit hat. It's a lovely purple—two shades of purple, actually, since Ellana has taken the time to make it striped. Solas runs his fingers along the hat, touching the yarn. He can't stop smiling. He looks inside the hat. "Is that—?"

"Fur," she interrupts. She likes doing that. Solas doesn't mind. "I thought you might like it. It's getting colder." She chews on her lip. "It's not actual fur," she adds, eyes growing wide. "I hope you know that."

Solas puts on the hat. It covers the tips of his ears and fits comfortably. He thinks he might be floating. Ellana gazes at him with the softest smile ever. Her smiles are always soft when she smiles at Solas. "Do I look okay?" Solas asks, and he tries to keep a straight face, but he breaks. She breaks, too. They're laughing again.

"Oh, Solas," she sighs, having to cover her mouth as she continues to laugh. When she stops, and it takes a while before she stops, she reaches over and runs her thumb along his eyebrow. "You have a rare and marvelous spirit."

The world has frozen over.

Slowly, Solas raises his head, stares at Ellana. The expression on her face was kind, but now it's unsure, regretful, and a tad puzzled. She removes her hand. "I, I need to get home, sleep for a bit. I have a night shift."

Solas nods. "Yes. I should sleep, too. Getting better is priority."

Ellana shoves her bag onto her shoulder. She glances at Solas before leaving. The room still smells like lavender, even after she has left. Solas removes the hat and drops it into his lap. He moves the torn wrapping paper to the side and grabs his phone again.

Unlocking his phone only fills him with despair. He had been reading past messages between him and his Vhenan. Now, it would seem, he has a possible name for her. Solas doesn't know how he's supposed to feel. He changes the name to "Ellana", but looking at it makes his stomach do flips. He changes it back to "Vhenan", because it feels right. If Ellana is _her_ , then Ellana is Solas' heart.

* * *

Cole texts Solas when Solas is back home. It's early morning, around three, and Solas doesn't understand the message.

 _It's love_.

 _Excuse me_?

 _That sick in your chest I thought was sick but it wasn't sick_. _Something was in your chest and it hadn't made its way to your heart_. _I know what it is now_. _It was never sick_. _It was love and it has reached your heart_.

Solas shuts his eyes.

* * *

After chemotherapy, when he's back home, he gets a text. It says it's from Vhenan. Solas bites the inside of his cheek.

 _So_ … _this is Solas, right_?

Solas paces his apartment. He can't keep still.

 _Yes_ , _this is Solas_.

 _Hi_ , _this is Ellana_. _I'm sorry if you felt_ … _uncomfortable today_.

 _I had a needle in my arm_. _Of course I was uncomfortable_.

He's trying.

 _Oh_ , _that's such a relief_. _I thought it was me_.

 _It could never be you_.

 _You're such a dork_.

* * *

 _ **You have 1 new message**_.

 **From** : DalishKeeperL [06:06 p.m.]  
 **Subject** : (no subject)  
So… this is Solas, right?

 **To** : DalishKeeperL [06:07 p.m.]  
 **Subject** : re:  
Yes, this is Solas.

Solas is experiencing déjà vu, but this is needed.

 **From** : DalishKeeperL [06:09 p.m.]  
 **Subject** : re: re:  
Hi, this is Ellana.

* * *

Solas would assume this should be awkward—whatever is going on between him and Ellana. It isn't, though. It was at first, but after moving past the pleasantries and sorting out the confusion, Solas doesn't think this is awkward at all. He doesn't quite know where they are, what their current status is, but he thinks, if he were to ask, that would revert everything to stage one again, and Solas really doesn't like that concept.

So, he'll enjoy this right now. He's fine. He isn't settling.

She is still listed as "Vhenan" in his phone.

* * *

Solas doesn't like settling. When she joins on quests, talks with his friends, and is essentially reminding him of how nice and friendly she is, Solas can feel something stirring inside him. If he were around Cole, Cole wouldn't call this love. Cole could insist it was love with as many fancy words and flowery sentences as he would please, but he wouldn't consider this love.

They're killing a dragon right now. Bull, Sera, and Ellana are with Solas. They're not bothering to use the chat, as they all have headsets. Bull is taking up most of the airwaves, laughing when his character swings its weapon and lands a nasty blow to the creature's ankle. That's often. Sera is currently shooting arrows into the beast's face. Ellana is underneath it, trying to attack it when it isn't looking. Solas' mind is elsewhere. He's mindlessly casting spells, most likely missing. He's thinking about Ellana, about how he has heard the sounds she makes in the middle of the night when no one else is around.

Solas pops a key off his keyboard.

The dragon is dead. Sera and Ellana can't stop laughing. "What did ya say back there?" Sera asks. "You had shouted it."

This only makes Bull laugh even harder. Solas turns down the volume.

"Oh, the closest translation would be, 'I will bring myself sexual pleasure later, while thinking about this with great respect'."

Solas logs off for the rest of the night.

* * *

Solas takes his chance. He texts Ellana. Usually it would be late when they talk, but it isn't late right now.

 _Do you ever get any free time_? _I imagine your job takes up most of it_.

She automatically reads the message, but it takes her a while to reply. Solas watches the three dots appear and disappear four times before she replies.

 _I do get free time_. _Are you asking to be a part of it_?

 _Perhaps_. _Would that be allowed_?

 _Are you asking permission_?

 _Would you like me to beg_?

 _Perhaps_. She's mocking him.

Solas thinks he's on fire. _That can be arranged_.

 _Good_.

* * *

Their first date is at a park. It's dark, and they are alone. They sit on the grass and watch the stars.

Ellana pokes Solas in the side. "This is devastatingly romantic."

Solas pokes her right back. "I know."

She points out a constellation. Solas watches her hand move, trace the pattern with a finger tip. She has her hair in a braid again, but it's coming undone. A few strands are loose, curling down to her shoulder. She smells like lavender and the hospital. Solas tucks her hair behind her ear. She's still pointing out constellations. Solas is admiring the stars along her temples.

"I assume those hurt," Solas says, grazing the back of his index finger along the pattern. Her skin is soft.

"Not that side," she replies quietly. "The other side hurt." She laughs, the corners of her eyes crinkling up. She thinks she's hilarious. She is hilarious. Solas is laughing with her. He's laughing and setting his head on her shoulder. She doesn't hesitate in touching him back, wrapping her arms around his waist and giving him the warmest hug he has ever received.

* * *

Their first kiss takes place at her door. It's not like kissing her in the game. There isn't any fervor behind it. It's delicate, a little wet. His hand is curved around the side of her neck, her hip. She's holding onto his arms. Someone opens their door down the hall and gives them a pointed look when they walk past. Solas can't stop kissing her. She tastes like strawberries.

"I have to go," Ellana says, pulling away. She digs in her pocket for her keys. Solas presses their foreheads together. "I have an early shift in the morning."

"You should have told me. I wouldn't have included tongue."

Ellana kisses Solas' nose. "You would have anyway. You're gross." She leaves it at that, giving Solas a hug before disappearing into her unit. Solas' lips feel funny. When he touches them, they're sticky from her lip gloss.

* * *

Solas is sleeping. It's almost seven in the evening. Ellana texts him.

 _Tell me I can come over_. _I'm looking at your file_ , _at your address_ , _and I have a bad idea_.

Solas is groggy. He yawns. _I do rather like bad ideas_.

 _Oh_ , _do not tell me that_.

He slips into the bathroom. _Would you like me to tell you to come over_?

 _Would you like me to beg_?

 _Perhaps_.

They're mocking each other.

 _That can be arranged_.

 _Come over_.

Ellana is at his door in under an hour. She is wearing purple scrubs and a smile. "I've found you."

Solas has her on the couch within minutes. She's wiggling underneath his hands, arching into his palms, his fingers, as he gropes at her sides, her thighs. She's kicking away her shoes—trying to, at least. Solas ends up laughing, sitting between her legs as he unties her shoes. "Would you like me to remove your socks, as well?"

"You're wearing socks," she says. "Three pairs, actually." She's sitting up, sticking her fingers near his ankles and counting the pairs he has on. "Yes, three pairs. What an accurate guess."

Solas leaves her socks be. He kisses her. "My feet are often cold."

She kisses him. "Maybe I could warm you up." She touches his thigh, and he grabs hers, pulling her close, on top of him. She sits on his lap. She's warm. Solas is warm.

"You could try," he sighs, allowing his head to fall against the back of the couch. She bites his neck. "Although, I would prefer you staying here. My feet do not need the attention."

"You talk a lot," she says. "We need to fix that." She runs her thumb along his bottom lip, pulling it down. She's looking at him. Her eyes are piercing, smiling almost. Her eyelashes are so long.

Solas blinks. "I don't have any contraceptives."

Her lips join the smile in her eyes. "We're not doing that. That won't stop you talking. Your mouth needs to be busy."

He catches on quick. "Oh."

She claims the couch as her own. He scurries to the floor, pulling off her pants, tossing them out of the way. A sock comes off with them.

Solas kisses her thighs, down to bite at her knee. Her toes curl. She kicks Solas in the side. "Not there." She has laughter in her tone, so Solas bites her again. She is squirming now. "Stop. You're going to have me crying in a moment."

"Are you ticklish, ma vhenan?" he whispers, resting his cheek against her knee. It comes out. It seems natural. He thinks she's going to reciprocate the affectionate notion, but instead, she giggles.

"If I tell you where I'm ticklish, will you start touching me there?"

Solas bites her knee again before going back to her thighs, kissing, licking. She is impatient. "Solas," she breathes out. "I'm going to scream." He glances at her, but continues his trek up her thighs, to her hip. Slowly, he slides her shirt over her stomach, marking the skin on her stomach with his teeth, his saliva. Her toes curl against his leg. She stays quiet, her eyes shut, her lips parted. She could be asleep, but it isn't long before she is kicking him in the side again. She doesn't say anything, so Solas expects Ellana is kicking him just to be kicking him. Solas gives her stomach a final kiss before tucking his fingers underneath the waistband of her panties, pulling them down, then off her legs. Her other sock comes off with them. "Finally," she says, not even trying to be nonchalant. She opens her eyes and gives Solas' side a rub. It's comforting. Solas squeezes her ankle.

"I could just walk away," he says, trying to put up a front. He falters, though, and she sees this.

"You want this."

Solas doesn't give her a reply. He touches her thighs. She spreads her legs. "You want this," she says in a sing-song tone, shutting her eyes.

Solas kisses her pubic mound first. Ellana's breath comes out low, her foot curving around Solas' thigh. Toes curling, she pulls Solas in, closer. Solas runs his tongue along her vulva, tasting, slipping inside her lips for only a moment. She's wet—wetter than Solas would think he'd make her. He moves his hand, using his thumb to gently stroke her outer labia. Her toes are curling again. "God," she groans. Solas grins at her. His tongue replaces his thumb. Slowly, he slides over her clit—once, twice. "God," she repeats. Her tone is a bit high. Her fingers touch Solas' shoulder.

He isn't going to flutter around this anymore. Solas wraps his arms around Ellana, yanks her over, and wraps his lips around her clit again. She yelps at this, immediately laughing right after. "God," she says, covering her face with a hand. Her other hand drops, her fingers grabbing Solas' shoulder, squeezing. " _Solas_."

She's noisy. He's noisy. Her legs shake when she comes. She laughs when she comes. She shoves Solas' head back between her thighs and rubs herself against Solas' mouth when she comes. "Again." She's breathless. " _Again_."

Solas hums around her clit, sliding two fingers inside her. She kicks him in the side.

* * *

The next time they see each other is Solas' chemotherapy session. She sits with him, using her nail to draw shapes into the arm not currently being preoccupied. Solas is watching her. He can't decipher the shapes.

"Are you experiencing any side effects?" Ellana asks, raising her head for a moment. She smiles before looking back down. Her fingernail is pink.

"Nausea," Solas says, "but that isn't often."

Ellana continues to smile. "You're forgetting to take your medication. I hope you took it before you came today."

"I'm thrilled you have the uttermost faith in me. I did take it."

He's wearing the hat she gave him. It's getting colder outside. She reaches up and tugs it over his eyes. "Just nausea?"

"I am finding out I do have a rather low sex drive." He fixes his hat. She's staring at him. He stares at her. "I do expect this shouldn't be a problem. I am quite happy receiving many kicks to the side while I eat you out."

She shoves his shoulder. "Get off. I mean, stop. No. Get off. Innuendo intended."

Solas grabs her arm and pulls her over. The gesture is very clumsy, because of the angle he grabs her, but she doesn't seem to mind. She's the one who brings them together, kissing his mouth, wasting absolutely no time at all when it comes to biting a hole through his bottom lip.

When he's finished with his appointment, Ellana gives him the whole jar of lollipops. "They're for you, but you can tell your friend they're for him."

Cole is ecstatic when he sees the lollipops. "She remembered me."

* * *

When Solas visits the library, Dorian won't stop giving him a look. It doesn't matter where Dorian is—on the other side of the room, peeking around a bookcase, helping a student. Dorian won't stop giving Solas this _look_. Of course, Solas ignores him. He has brought a book with him today. He isn't going to nap. Solas pulls his legs into the chair and sets his book on top of his knees. He only gets a few pages read before Dorian goes behind the counter, plopping down in the chair beside Solas. "There's word on the grapevine," he starts, which causes Solas to roll his eyes, "that you are currently seeing someone." When this doesn't bestow Dorian with a response, he tries again. He's blunt this next time. "If you and I were to get married to our respective Lavellan, we would be related."

Solas stares at him.

Dorian slowly turns in his chair. "Don't harm yourself thinking about this amazing possibility."

* * *

 _ **You have 1 new chat**_.

[06:25 p.m.] **SeekerCAPCFP** : I hear you and Dorian are going to be related soon

[06:26 p.m.] **FenHarel** : I'm sure he's told you all about it.

[06:27 p.m.] **FenHarel** : But no, not anytime soon. There is potential in the future, and I'm trying to focus on that. I don't know what's going to happen in the meantime.

[06:29 p.m.] **SeekerCAPCFP** : As long as she makes you happy

[06:29 p.m.] **SeekerCAPCFP** : And as long as she's real

[06:29 p.m.] **SeekerCAPCFP** : She is real right?

[06:30 p.m.] **FenHarel** : She is my nurse.

[06:30 p.m.] **SeekerCAPCFP** : Solas!

* * *

Her bed is softer than his. It doesn't make any sounds when they collapse on it, like Solas' bed would. Solas' bed would creak and groan, and they wouldn't get anything done, besides laughing. They'd be laughing a lot. But, because they are in Ellana's bedroom and not Solas', they're not laughing at the sounds the bed makes. Instead, Solas is on his back, Ellana stretched over him. They're kissing. It's delicate, directly mirroring their first kiss. Solas is the one to include tongue first again. Ellana opens her mouth and invites it in. She works off her top. She isn't wearing a bra.

Solas runs his hand along Ellana's back. Her hair is up. He sticks his fingers in her hair, unravels her braid. Her hair comes down in loose curls. They almost look white in the dark of the room. Solas cups the side of her face and brings her back down, reconnecting their lips. She's smiling. "I'd pull your hair if you had any." She sits on his hips, helps him remove his shirt. "I don't know how you'd look with hair."

He rises, using a hand to support himself in doing so. "I would advise you not to imagine that." Slowly, he palms her breast, his thumb circling around her areola. Her nipple turns hard under his touch. She watches him.

"Did you have an awful haircut or something?" She rubs her thumb against his nipple. It's hard, too. She kisses his cheek.

Solas tilts his head. Ellana moves down to suck on his neck. "We were all young once," he remarks.

Ellana laughs. Solas likes it when she laughs. He shifts his weight, moving to her other breast, giving it the same treatment. This one is already hard. She arches into his hand. He bows his head and takes her nipple in his mouth, softly sucking. His tongue swirls around the pert thing, his teeth scraping her areola only slightly. She groans at that, shaking her head and moving him out of the way. "Have to kiss you," she says, and does. Her definition of kissing Solas, at least right now, is biting his lips and causing him to falter and drop onto his back. She likes being on top.

"Take off your pants." Ellana pokes Solas' in the ribs, at his stomach. It dips in, he's lost so much weight, but she doesn't mind. She isn't making him self-conscious. She's making him _happy_. She's also making him take off the rest of his clothing.

She moves off his hips in order for him to do so, but she's right back on top of him in no time. "Your turn." Solas helps her. He's quick, more eager than previously thought. He can't stop touching her skin. What he lacks in body hair, she makes up for it. Due to the chemotherapy, he had encountered obvious hair loss, first starting with his pubic hair. Following that, it was his underarm hair, and then the hair on his head. His leg hair has thinned out, but he still has it. The hair on her legs is thin, too. Solas likes her body hair. When she rolls onto her back, he licks her armpit. He decides he doesn't like doing that. She laughs at him for it.

"What a fucking loser."

He kisses her. She grunts and pushes him off her. He rubs his cheek against hers. He's the one laughing now. They're kissing again. He's lying back on top of her, dropping a hand between their bodies. Her legs fall open. "Please," she mumbles. "Solas."

She's already wet. Solas runs his finger tips over her clit, giving it a slow stroke before he's dropping down to feel her labia. He props himself up with an elbow, bouncing between watching her squirm and watching himself work. She's very entertaining. Her brows are furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. When he teases her entrance with a fingertip, she parts her lips, and when he slides his middle finger inside, she groans and smacks the side of his head. "I have condoms," she says. Solas curves his wrist, his thumb against her clit as he moves his finger out and back inside. He adds his ring finger. "I have condoms," she repeats. "If you're up to it, that is."

He is.

Ellana drops between his legs first. She licks from root to tip, taking his cock in her mouth and slowly bobbing her head. Solas tangles his fingers in her hair. "Ellana."

She brings him to the edge, then backs off. He is about to beg. She pushes him down, crawls up his body. "I need your mouth," she whispers.

"I give you my mouth," he says, and gives it to her. Her fingers wrap around the headboard, curling, uncurling. Solas has his hands on her lower back, holding her close, as he licks her open, kisses her clit, sucks her until she's shaking.

He brings her to the edge, then backs off. She is about to beg. "Solas, please."

Solas has his arms around Ellana, and she is wrapped around him. The bed moves with them, but it doesn't creak. If it were to creak, they would be laughing. They're panting, breathless, into each other's mouths, their necks, their ears. She's digging her nails into the back of his thigh, telling him to go faster, harder. "More, _more_."

She gets more. She gets more than more. Her back is arching off the mattress, her heels pressing into his back. He runs his fingertips along her side, up to her breast. He kisses her there, bites. She grinds her teeth into his neck. They're knocking the headboard into the wall.

He's gathering her into his lap now. She's pushing him onto his back now. She's grabbing his wrists and pinning them above his head, holding him still as she fucks herself on his cock. He's watching her, she's watching him, and then they're on their sides, groping, mouthing at skin and trembling against each other. "Right there," she whispers. "Keep doing that—right there. Shit, how are you doing that?"

She's pink in the face. She comes first. She's shaking and laughing. When he comes, he shakes and forgets how to breathe. She touches his face, staring at him with big eyes and a concerned expression. Her lip is bleeding. "Solas?"

Solas kisses her battle wound. "You take my breath away."

Ellana has a pattern of freckles along her back. Solas connects them with a finger tip. Her eyes are closed, her head resting against the bed sheet. "That feels nice."

"You like my fingers."

"I like your dick, too. Your mouth… your ass." She opens an eye.

Solas gives her a look. "Go to sleep, vhenan."

"Get a tattoo," Ellana says, shutting her eyes again. "Get some stars."

Solas admires the stars along her temples. He traces them with a fingernail. "You are so beautiful."

* * *

 _shes a good shag rite_?

 _Sera_ , _please_.

* * *

Ellana is working two fingers inside him. He's holding a pillow to his face, the tips of his ears pink. She is watching his back arch, his toes curl. Slowly, he inches his legs apart, cants his hips. "Oh, I am not going to last long."

"I'm not intending you to."

She curves her wrist. She finds his prostate. When he comes, he sees stars.

"You know, your back breaks out into this haphazard pattern of reds and pinks when you're aroused."

Solas kisses her forehead.

* * *

Solas is chewing on his thumb. There are small beads of sugar on the side of it, and every time he slips out his tongue, he tastes it. It doesn't taste bad, but he probably shouldn't be sucking on sugar. He's sitting in a café, knees knocking together and the chains and buttons on his backpack jingle-jangling. He has money, he can purchase a latte or a frappuccino, but Ellana has volunteered. She's at the counter, absently bouncing on her heels. She's talking to Cole. Cole is wearing the pink hat she had given him, and his name tag is upside down. His skin has cleared up.

It's cold in here—to Solas, at least. His toes are curled inside his shoes, and he keeps knocking his knees together. It hurts, but he doesn't stop. His laptop is in front of him. It's a shit thing. Ellana has her laptop open across from him. It's nicer than his. She boasts about it often while Solas is complaining about being cold and wondering why she doesn't have more socks. If Solas talks too much, she puts four hats on him, wraps two scarfs around his neck, and shoves him under the blankets. He's content after that.

Solas continues to shiver. He stares at his laptop screen. A minutes passes—two, and then Ellana returns. She takes her seat across from Solas and hands over his coffee. "Cole says hi." She takes a sip at her own coffee, clicking her mouse until her laptop wakes up. Solas does the same. "What do you want to do?" Ellana asks. Solas can hear her typing, one key at a time. "Not many people are online."

He takes his coffee, holding it as he types in his user info with the middle finger on his left hand. _FenHarel_ , he types, and _Welcome back_ , _FenHarel_ , says the screen. "We'll think of something." He drinks. She commences a game of footsie.

Ellana's temples are free of makeup. Solas can see stars. Of course, of course.


End file.
